


arc and rise

by kinpika



Series: thin red line [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: A bit of clashing with lightsabers, BH Story, Character Development, Force Sensitivity, Identity Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 23:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19239676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: How easy it was for Jedi to lose their cool, even after finding apparent peace at Tython, but she couldn’t say much herself these days anyway.





	arc and rise

**Author's Note:**

> another of my BH and co, with a bit of expansion on her past in the form of… a jedi knight. idk. whatever man.

Brave to consider how the Jedi followed her further down. Having already waved Torian and Gault off, to settle into position either side, Catiel knew they could only be baited so much further. A cramped area wasn’t the preferred place to contend with Jedi, but Catiel had some faith that a few warning shots fired from either side would temper them. _Nearly there._

It’s like a shift in the air, when lightsabers are drawn. A little too careless of the Jedi, showing emotion where there should be none. Catiel was almost surprised they had given her the upper hand at that, by revealing their impatience and uncertainty. Truly a pitfall of the trainings dolled out, after the Sacking. So many young Jedi, so eager to please, to do better. To get revenge. Clearly, Catiel was just a small marker for these ones, a small victory in the face of the screams of Coruscant.  

But that was their mistake, to assume so much so early. Stopping in the middle of an empty marketplace, Catiel carefully places her hands on her hips. Blaster under one, hilt of her saber under her other. Shakes her head slightly, before turning to look over her shoulder. Three had followed her down. Well, she’d been dealt a poor hand before.

“Whatever they told you to do, I suggest going away and ignoring whatever happens next.”

Clearly they weren’t thrilled with that talk, with how one of them, possibly the youngest, raises his lightsaber upright immediately. Ah, a padawan. Judging from the way Torian talks at her ear, he noticed it too. No doubt in his sights now.

“Please.” 

There’s a round of fire, coming from her left and right. With some focus on the balls of her feet, Catiel bounds up and away, watching as they scatter. They were right in aiming for the padawan first, and with a critical eye, she aims another three shots at their legs. Not with intention to harm, but to warn them to back off. 

“I’m not kidding.”

“Neither are we, _hunter_.”

Energy crackles up her side, and Catiel barely manages to duck in time, as a lightsaber sweeps where her head had once been. Older, probably closer in age to herself. Remembers Coruscant, angry. Hurting and accusatory. Catiel aims her elbow at his gut, and flicks herself around to catch his saber with her own. Pouring off of him, dangerous emotions that he should’ve controlled years ago. Blames her _kind_ for what happened, and Catiel muses _if only he knew._

But the lightsaber in her hands has the third, the one caring for the padawan, back up. Call a name that’s distinctly Alderaanian. ‘Organa’. Well, it wasn’t the first time she’d stuck it to nobility. Catching the blade, Catiel can only hold the gaze of the angry Jedi, and aim blindly over her shoulder with her blaster. A few more shots from the left join her own, and she hears the scuffle of boots moving further away.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” Catiel says, as sweetly as can be, before she throws her weight behind a push. Smacks Organa in the face with the Force, with him disappearing behind stalls and crates, many breaking under his weight. No noise suggested he was getting up anytime soon, and Catiel moves on quickly.

Now the third Jedi steps forward, perhaps reading her intent, perhaps just readying for the worst. If they knew better, Catiel was sure they knew not to have gotten involved. That she wouldn’t have purposely thrown a flash grenade down towards them, only to catch them unawares as they looked away. Padawan or no, when they rush Catiel, she pulls her lightsaber around herself in a defensive circle, only to match them blow for blow. So long it had been since she’d wielded it, but it was like second nature, combined with the freedom of letting the Force in. It made her feel powerful, _alive_.

Overpowering the padawan was child’s play, with each blow landing on their saber, forcing them towards the ground. And each time the third got close, it was another round of bullets, forcing them off once more. Until Catiel hears the _boss!_ at her ear, a mere warning, until she finds the source of the panic.

End of her saber was poised at the throat of the third, millimetres from searing the skin. In her left hand was her blaster once more, aimed directly at the head of the padawan, sprawled on the ground now. A tie, perhaps, as the Jedi held firm despite the blade at his throat. His own lightsaber was barely against her gut, and she could feel the heat through her armour. 

“Let me walk, and I won’t kill them.”

No words, no play. Nothing to suggest they were willing to move. Catiel didn’t want to have her hand forced, so she aimed the blaster at the padawan’s right hand, shooting as they’d gone to reach for their saber once more. A piercing scream filled the air, and Catiel could see the change. The sheer _resentment_ at such an action filled the older Jedi’s face. How easy it was for Jedi to lose their cool, even after finding apparent peace at Tython, but she couldn’t say much herself these days anyway.

“Let me walk.”

Despite the whimpers from the padawan, neither of them moved. “I don’t want to shoot them again,” she warned, aiming for the leg this time. Surely they would yield. Hard pressed to find a Jedi who would standby and let their fellow, or perhaps their student, die in such a way. “Please.” Again, says it again, and she may have even let her blade tip a little closer, a little more honestly. Singes the collar of their robe, and yet they don’t flinch. 

“Catiel, _enough_.”

It’s a voice that hadn’t been heard in years, and Catiel would be lying if she said it didn’t take her by surprise. To be expected, having been on his territory, but they had parted over Nar Shaddaa, never to be seen again. With a raised brow, she looks over her shoulder, taking in the hulking frame of Evir Veila Novak. The only mark to have gotten away.

But whatever bravado she had prepared died on her tongue, as with one hand, he held Mako by the arm. She was struggling against him, a genuine look of fear on her face at the sight of Catiel between two others. Mako mouths something, and Catiel doesn’t understand it. Not when her sight almost runs red. “Evir, I’m warning you.”

It didn’t stop him. Not from setting his own blade alight, tipping the edge towards Mako. She freezes immediately, stops pushing, instead seemingly trying to push away from the lightsaber. “As am I.”

 _Fuck_. There’s a standoff, that almost drags out for hours. Studies Evir, the tiredness in his eyes, and how his saber seems to tilt towards Mako, a little more intently. No, Catiel knew, she could never go through with a sacrifice. Never had before, never would consider it, ever. With a scowl, Catiel presses a button on the hilt. In an instant, the light goes out, the hilt shrinks. Disarmed. 

“Throw them over here. Now.”

Once she slid blaster and saber along the ground, Catiel raises her hands in the air. At her ear, both Torian and Gault speak up, and she finds Evir’s gaze. “Don’t shoot him. It’s fine.”

Evir nods towards the other Jedi, who immediately rushes to the padawan’s aid. Releases Mako, who takes a few careful steps forward, before all but falling into Catiel’s arms, apologies filling the air. Holding her close, Catiel shushes her as gently as she can, but doesn’t take her eyes off Evir. Something in him had changed, she could feel it. Whilst there was always something jovial about him in their few weeks skirmishing Nar Shaddaa, now he just seemed cold and unfeeling. A part of her assumed that nine years on Nar Shaddaa would do that to a person, but maybe it was Coruscant just eating at him. 

“If you’re after a bounty, Catiel, I suggest departing Coruscant and not coming back.”

Jaw tightening, Catiel knows she had to explain. If anyone understood, Evir would. The rest of her team were just following her at this point, not knowing the true intentions for coming to Coruscant undercover. But the words don’t want to come out, and Catiel could only sigh.

He steps closer then. Careful and calculated steps, stopping only to pick up her weapons. Eventually, Evir stops before her, and reaches out. Catiel doesn’t stop him, as his fingers find the slide of mask along her jaw, lifting it up. Not so much that the other Jedi could see, but enough that she knew the colour of her eyes was exposed. Evir huffs, before returning the mask to its place.

Making his way over to where Organa had yet to reappear, Evir calls over his shoulder. “I’ll give you leave until tonight.” Generous, no doubt, as the Republic would be up in arms knowing someone like Catiel was on their world once more. 

Except, it was now or never. “They know about Nem.”

Cryptic, yes, but how else was she supposed to explain that somehow, her ship had been bugged. Files had been downloaded. The mobile base of operations had been tapped into, and her apartment on Nar Shaddaa was destroyed. Someone knew too much, and that her only lead had brought her back here. Back home. 

Evir is just as evasive, not biting into it. “Plenty of people do.” Nem, a myth. Apparently the name haunted the halls of Tython, a threat to those who dared step outside the boundaries of light. 

“Evir, they know _everything_. About Nem and… Sorca.” 

Only then does he stop. And it’s no longer a dispassionate stare, nor one of disappointment. Perhaps Catiel could call this one fear, with how he turns. She can feel the way Mako looks at her, and how Gault asks the question he’d been repeating for months on end once more. 

‘Who are you, Catiel Jast? What have you done?’

“I have to save her, Evir. I owe her that much.”

Organa on his feet, if a little wobbly, and Evir dismisses them all. Protests, especially when Torian and Gault emerge from their positions. But Evir doesn’t take notice of them, nor the vague threat about reporting this up the chain. “Do it then. I don’t care,” he says flippantly. “Tell Iva’adi herself for what it’s worth.”

Catiel doesn’t linger on that name, nor on how the three Jedi disappear down the walkway. Not that they were in the most secure spot, but Evir is pacing before them. Taking into account how her team looked remarkably antsy, too, she just didn’t know how to break the information down. How to dissolved the feeling that was eating at her gut.

Until Evir stops suddenly, mid turn. Looks at her, dead on, with a particularly heavy gaze. “I’m coming with you, then.”


End file.
